


Her Mother's Daughter

by Hecate



Category: Harper's Island
Genre: F/M, Implied Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-22
Updated: 2012-12-22
Packaged: 2017-11-22 00:53:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/604021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hecate/pseuds/Hecate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She looks just like her mother.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Her Mother's Daughter

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Characters aren't mine.

"You look like your mother," Wakefield tells her in the dark, her father swinging on a rope behind her.

She should be scared. She isn't.

She feels nothing for seconds, she's empty and dead until fear and anger flood her like a tide and fill her up to the brink. She's alive again then, the only one left of her family, and she hates Wakefield, oh how she hates him.

The heat of it is enough to burn out the grief for hours. 

(She's grateful.)

A night passes. She watches Chloe fall in the light of a beautiful day, watches as Wakefield walks away from two more deaths. She counts the bullets in her gun, she counts the people left. It's not enough.

(It will never be again.)

When they catch him, it feels too easy. He looks almost vulnerable, curled together on the ground, his own blood running down his face. It's a red smear of life, a proof of his humanity. It's hard to believe and Abby has to look away.

Her friends are alive around her, around him. It's a triumph of sorts.

(It comes too late.) 

But she can't kill him, not for her friends, not even for her parents. She might hate herself more for it than she could ever hate him, and yet she can't. Henry tells her she isn't a killer. Wakefield smiles.

Some hours ago, he killed her father.

Hours ago, her daddy was still alive.

She can't breathe.

(She doesn't ask him why.)

Behind bars, he looks like the animal he is. Bared teeth, a snarl pretending to be a smile, and her mother's name is on his lips. She wants to tear it away. But she can't, no matter what she says. He has the last word because his mouth once touched her mother’s; his hands were on her mother's body. 

His eyes are following her.

(She's scared of who he sees.)

His escape doesn't surprise her, not really. Everything is falling apart around her again and he fits into the pattern, painting the green of the woods red with blood and fear. She thought she got away from all that. She didn't.

He always followed her.

She isn't Kelly, she never had his name tattooed on her skin, but he was inside of her for all these years, curled around everything she is, curled around her mother's memory. A snake in a burnt garden, a rotten apple in her life.

(He always followed her mother.)

Trish is dead, her wedding dress a white flag on the ground, screaming surrender into the world. And Abby is running away from him again, running away from the truth.

It's futile, another useless escape, but her heart is still beating and she has no other choice but to follow its beats.

(He will always find her.) 

She still wants to live, no matter what.

An eternity later, Henry is as dead as his bride-to-be, his own knife plunged in his heart, and the ground is covered with his blood and all his lies. The church is in flames behind her, burning Trish and her wedding dress, burning the dream that brought Abby to the island. 

Jimmy is gone. 

But she's alive. For now, maybe for minutes only, and she wants to dig her fingers into her life, wants to pull it close so Wakefield can't rip it away from her. Abby knows she should be running. But she can't, not anymore. She's her mother's daughter and that won't change, no matter where she goes. She thinks she might die for that. 

(For seconds, she hates her mother.)

She stays silent when he touches her. Silent and still, and he smiles. His hand is wet and warm with Henry's blood, rough on her face, and there is hunger in his eyes. She thinks of her mother.

(His hand is on her face.)

"Sarah," he says.

(She looks just like her.)


End file.
